


The timely dew of sleep

by martainez



Series: perfectly imperfect [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Fluff, M/M, Sleepiness, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 19:24:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15274572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/martainez/pseuds/martainez
Summary: Heat makes you sleepy. Then add a world tour, a dash of motion sickness and two (maybe three, who counts?) glasses of cheap, American, wine to the mixture and you have the perfect recipe to a sleepy Phil.A fic to satisfy your cravings for snuggles.





	The timely dew of sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this when I couldn't sleep, thinking that maybe writing about someone sleepy would make myself sleepy. It didn't work.

 

It is a well-known fact that heat makes you sleepy. It is the dehydration, the constant struggle to find somewhere to cool down, the lack of comfort that occurs when your shirt sticks to your back and the drop in blood pressure, that causes you to feel yourself drowse of in a situation where you usually would be all ears. Then add a world tour, a dash of motion sickness and two (maybe three, who counts?) glasses of cheap, American, wine to the mixture and you have the perfect recipe to a sleepy Phil. 

***

A thick fog had settled over the small town, hovering over the ground like a duvet made out of the purest cotton. It looked somewhat cosy, as if the earth was sleeping while the sky tucked it in using the one softest material available- clouds. With a little imagination, you could see this as if the whole earth was sleepy. After a full day of people, sunshine and spinning uncontrollably in a black abyss, it wanted nothing more than to settle down and rest for a couple of hours. Taking the opportunity to sleep before the sun decides to wake up again. 

_Or_ maybe this was just what the sleepy mind of Phil concluded when he walked, together with his friends, to their destination of the night.

***  


The whole tour crew was currently situated in a rather filthy looking bar, drinking alcoholic beverages that tasted of nothing but antitussives and softened soda. They were talking loudly and laughing at monotonous jokes. Everybody seemed to be having a great time, Phil noted. He, himself, did not talk that much. Instead, he fidgeted with his hands, (considering pinching himself to keep him alert,) while trying to make eye contact with Dan, who sat a few feet to his left. Phil wanted nothing more than Dan to tell him that they should go back to the bus and rest. Because Phil happened to be tired; extremely tired, if you say so. (If it was socially accepted he would lay down on the table, with his head resting on his arms, and sleep until it was showtime again. But that is, sadly, not okay - yet.)

You may ask why Phil would not just raise from his seat and excuse himself?Well, you see, Phil does simply not do that. Dan always takes the lead in a social situation, he decides when it is time to go and when to return. He does not have a problem with taking command, with people listening to him. He... well, he does not suffer from social anxiety. Phil has always had a problem with confronting people, it did not matter that the ' _people_ ' were all his friends and co-workers and that the ' _problem_ ' was that he wanted to go to bed. No, for anxiety does not care if you know someone or if the problem is unimportant and irrelevant, it will always creep up on you and make you feel bad for talking.   
And Dan is aware of that. Come one, he has been living with Phil for the majority of the past decade, he literally knows all of Phil's ghosts better than Phil does himself. That is why Phil would rather fall into unconsciousness, on the bar table, while waiting to get Dan's attention than excusing himself. 

 

Phil had started to lose hope (now almost fully prepared for a night on the table) when Dan finally decided to give him a quick glance. His eyes met Phil's staring gaze and he raised his eyebrows questioning. Phil tried his hardest to make Dan get the message. His eyes pleaded, bottom lip sticking out a little just before a yawn escaped. Dan seemed to understand, he nodded slightly before sweeping what was left in his wine glass.   
"God, it's late, isn't?" Dan said while making what was obviously the fakest yawn of all time. Martyn looked him over, his brows frowning while he fished his phone from his pocket.   
"It's eleven thirty, mate," he chuckled, clearly amused by Dan's poor attempt of an excuse. Dan answered by giving him a short laugh and shrugging, he stood up anyways and motioned over to Phil to follow him. He did not have to ask twice, Phil stood up faster than he expected, luckily his brain caught on with the action and enough blood flooded through his veins, sparing him the humiliation of fainting. (Not that he was used to fainting, no, that was one of Dan's characteristics, not his).

"Half past four back in England," Dan said after a while, giving Martyn a cheeky wink. Normally, Phil would have found this conversation amusing, but his brain was currently being overtaken by a thick, fog-like, feeling. One that was scarily similar to the one that was to be found on the ground outside. Maybe he is not the ' _literal sun_ ' that some people like to call him, maybe he is the whole earth, including the sky and the clouds and the fog. Maybe he is the entire galaxy. _Or_ , once again, maybe this is just a sleepy mind talking... 

He walked towards Dan with heavy steps and managed to give the crew a genuine smile and a quiet goodbye before they both left the bar.

 

The walk back to the bus took a painfully long time. Dan had his arm around Phil's waist as a way of supporting his weight. Because, to be honest, Dan was not sure that Phil would be able to support himself right now. To strangers, they must have seemed like two extremely sad people. Sad because they walked as if they were as drunk as a skunk before the clock had struck midnight.

The bus was parked in a desolated parking lot, dedicated to truckers on a journey across the country. A street lamp lit up the entrance which made it easy for Dan to locate the door (not that he would have struggled otherwise, he was not that intoxicated). He picked up the key from his front pocket and unlocked the door in one swift move. He was almost impressed by himself.  
"Watch your step," he mumbled to Phil who stepped over the threshold and entered the bus. Someone had thankfully decided to turn on the air conditioner before leaving to go to the bar. Therefore did the air inside actually feel breathable and not suffocating. Dan took a deep breath (cold air is a luxury that few can afford these days) while continuing to walk Phil to the bunk beds. 

It took Phil exactly five seconds after entering the bed-corridor before he was sat down on his bed. He let out a quiet sigh and raised his arms over his head, signaling to Dan that he was too tired to even undress by himself.   
Dan knew what to do instantly and started to remove Phil's shirt while giving him a little chuckle. When Phil's head finally popped out from the shirt his hair was all messed up. He looked up at Dan with a slight pout, the definition of 'bed hair' and a pair of eyes that craved sleep.   
"Stop that," Dan said while reaching out to stroke Phil's cheek.   
"Stop what?" Phil asked quietly, voice filled with sleepiness, leaning into the touch.  
"Stop being so adorable," Dan answered fondly, bending down to leave a lingering kiss on Phil's forehead. He then gestured to Phil to lift his bum off the bed so that Dan could remove his jeans. Said and done - the jeans were removed in a matter of seconds. Phil lied down and Dan bent down and began to tuck him in, lifting the duvet up so it almost fully covered Phil's chin.  
"Goodnight," he said and pecked Phil on the nose. But when he tried to retreat, Phil grabbed his arm and pulled him down again.   
"Please stay," Phil whispered and Dan could do nothing but smile towards his ridiculously adorable boyfriend. He nodded gently and lifted his arms to remove his own shirt, Phil removed his grip and let Dan prepare himself for sleep. The shirt went off easy and he proceeded with removing his jeans, it took him less than a minute to undress fully, apart from his pants (skinny jeans has got no chance against him after fifteen years of practice).   
When everything was off he lifted the duvet. Cold air meeting Phil's exposed skin, immediately causing him to shiver slightly. He pressed his back to the wall, making room for Dan to lie down in the bed (that was in fact too small to fit just _one_ of them comfortably, but who cares?)

Dan laid down on his back and pulled Phil onto his chest, Phil gave away a satisfied sound, muffled by the soft skin that was pressed against his face. Dan answered by giving him a little scalp massage, dragging his long fingers through Phil's roots, messing up his already messy hair. He could hear Phil's breath slow down, and his body becoming more and more relaxed.  
"I love you," Dan mumbled, he was not sure that Phil would even be able to hear him, but it did not matter. Phil already knew that. "A lot," he added after a few seconds. He pulled Phil a little closer so that he was almost lying on top of him. Phil did not react to the sudden movement and Dan concluded that he must be very close to sleep- if not already asleep.

Dan let his eyes fall shut, with his hand still resting in Phil's hair and with his favourite person resting on his chest. You might think that he was annoyed that Phil dragged them back to the bus at such an early hour, but no. You could in fact not be further away from the truth. Sure, the clock was only young, but falling asleep with the man you love securely tucked in beside you was better than any party or bar Dan would ever be invited to.

 

***  
  


> The timely dew of sleep
> 
> Now falling with soft slumb'rous weight inclines
> 
> Our eyelids.
> 
> _\- John Milton, Paradise Lost (1667; 1674), Book IV, line 615.  
>   
>    
>  _ O sleep, O gentle sleep,
> 
> Nature's soft nurse, how have I frighted thee,
> 
> That thou no more wilt weigh my eyelids down
> 
> And steep my senses in forgetfulness?
> 
> _\- William Shakespeare, Henry IV, Part II (c. 1597-99), Act III, scene 1, line 4._

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> On a scale of 1-10, how terrible was this fic?


End file.
